Carved in Stone
The Base of Drakesreach Bluff A predominantly flat region of elevated land atop a small cliff thatroughly spans one thirteenth of the Drakesreach Sierra as a whole, DrakesreachBluff is at once both an impressive sight and an equally notable landmarkwithin the Wildlands as a whole. It is upon this bluff that the freehold ofCrown's Refuge was first established in 625 ATA, and it is upon this very samebluff that that same city has flourished. Though mostly surrounded by dry auburn grasslands to the north and east,and the rushing waters of the Jadesnake to the west, the southern reaches ofthe base of Drakesreach Bluff hold some notable features, first and foremostof which is the smooth ramp that ascends towards the top of the bluff itself,leading to the only point around the base of the entire landmark by which onecan enter the city above. That city is, of course, the freehold of Crown's Refuge. Viewable asnothing more than a palisade wall of stone that measures roughly ten foot inheight atop the natural aegis of wall that is the cliff face, the suggestionof a multitude of buildings and homes are never the less there all the same. Amagnificent and elegant tower of pale white stone and marble ascends above theheight of the wall, however, presiding over the surrounding landscape as itspears towards the heavens. A set of vast wooden gates rest atop the natural ramp that leads up tothe surface of the bluff, evidently the only ingress to and from the cityabove, while the thick reaches of the Verdigris Forest stretch endlesslytowards the south, the edge of the forest directly adjacent to the southernedge of the bluff itself. It is a temperate early evening. A strong breeze blows over the land. A lightrain pours from the heavens. Lightning flashes in the sky and thunder echoesoff in the distance as a fierce storm rages. ---- Taran, Bloodstone, Blackfox and Keiresa are here. Also here: Crimson, Stormwatcher - Paso Fino, Crown's Refuge Stables The Hunter already has his hood drawn up, but thats more of a usual occurance for him as rain starts to fall. He snorts. "It'll be harder to track anything if it rains the entire time." Crimson paws at the ground idly, before shaking his head, knocking the water off. Keiresa takes the bow from Taran and smiles at him, "Thank you. I ssshall try to usse them well." Taran looks somewhat slantwise at the sky, then at his armored companion with a wry sort of smile. "Next time," he tells the man, "Tell the Prince you want a nice quiet monastery assignment instead of tramping after wayward bards." Taking his quarterstaff in his good hand, the lanky giant sets out. Northward, in the storming rain, on foot...whistling cheerfully. The rain does not seem to trouble Fox in the least as she sets off at an easy pace after Taran. "Now that would not be any fun, would it?" Blood notes with a small smile, the rain bothering him little as being used to it. Crimson on the other hand, isn't as fluffy as he normally would be, but he pads after happily. Keiresa seems fairly light of spirit as well. The Syldari makes her way steadily, deviating up to a couple yards when mud puddles are to be found. Not to avoid them, mind you, but to slither through with a sharp little grin. Mud? No problems. She does take care to keep that bow free and clean though. ---- Drakesreach Sierra The Drakesreach Sierra: A rugged range of rocky hills that feature anirregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of thesnow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation ofrolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarianterrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north,the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake tothe west, and the dry lowlands to the east. Jagged rocks begin their pitch for dominance over the auburn grasslandsof the rocky sierra as the terrain continues to elevate; the angle of the landtaking on a steeper slope as the altitude of the trail continues to climb.Dried oaken brush litters the landscape between the indomitable rocks and theasperous formations of boulders, with only the occasional lonely tree making aforlorn appearance, often complete with a host of raven that glancesuspiciously upon all those who come into view, judging them with anunforgiving avian glare of dark ruby. It is a temperate early evening. A strong breeze blows over the land,occasionally gusting powerfully. It is raining. Lightning flashes in the skyand thunder echoes off in the distance as a fierce storm rages. ---- "Its really too bad that we all cannot get along as such." Blood notes quietly, then shrugs. Blackfox scouts ahead, slipping in and out of the greenery as she falls silent, eyes sharp. Keiresa promptly sticks her tongue out at Taran, makes flappy-gill motions at her neck with her hands and squinches up her nose. She grins at him, apparently trying to make the point that - No wonder the Fastheldians want to keep her out! "Are you ssstaying here?" Taran makes his way with care among the broken hills and rocky ways, using his staff to replace the balance his immobilized left arm would otherwise cost him. Though not as at home as the Wildlanders in such terrain, the giant ranger-bard still manages better than one might expect of a sheltered Imperial. "I think...I would like to," he says, navigating a small cleft in the stones. "Assuming this little hunt of mine does not get me, or all of you, killed. Does your Archon often go missing?" "That could anyone's guess." the Hunter notes idly, ever watchful of the land around them, his hooded head turning this way and that slowly every now and then. "Last night was the first time I had seen the Archmage, let alone spoke to her. And just to let you know Master bard, I have thought for some time that you belonged here. Certainly is suiting." "You had not mentioned the Archon was missing," Fox says, emerging from behind a tree, frowning, "I thought a woman had been taken northward by a dragon?" A flick of her tail sends mud droplets flying a few feet to her side. Keiressa has taken out the bow and is examining it, a thoughtful look on her face. ---- Drakesreach Sierra The Drakesreach Sierra: A rugged range of rocky hills that feature anirregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of thesnow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation ofrolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarianterrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north,the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake tothe west, and the dry lowlands to the east. Aubern becomes granite as smoothly as night becomes day upon the higherflats of the Drakesreach Sierra; the harsh grasses and the thorny brush giveway to firmer rocky soil, and the shade of ashen sweeps over the ground below,the stones that crunch underfoot offering a bleak yet welcoming change fromthe uphill trek. It is a temperate evening. A strong breeze blows over the land, occasionally gusting powerfully. It is raining. Lightning flashes in the sky and thunder echoes off in the distance as a fierce storm rages. ---- Taran laughs at that. "I do not know, Bloodstone," he says. "By Imperial decree I am no more than a fool, and I cannot but think such as myself do not live long here." But oh, those blue eyes shine as he looks out at the storm-slicked, rain-pelted broken landscape. "But at least I live, first." "That is all any of us can do." Bloodstone replies softly. Crimson on other hand, fur-soaked as he is, stops to shake violently, doing his best to keep the water out of his face. Its one thing when a normal dog shakes water off, but when a pony-sized wolf does so, its so much more...spectacular. And considering Crimson is near the group, they are not spared from wuffy spray. Keiresa laughs for the water droplets and hurriedly puts the bow away. Taran doesn't seem to mind the sudden wolf-spray at all - actually, the man seems quite at ease, despite terrain and weather. And somehow, very *aware*....or perhaps connected, in some way, to the world. "Are you finished?" Blood asks the wolf padding next to him in a joking manner. Crimson grins rather, well wolfishly, then woofs at his best friend. He quiets down, to stare off at the lightning strikes that flicker among the horizon. ---- Drakesreach Sierra The Drakesreach Sierra: A rugged range of rocky hills that feature an irregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of the snow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation of rolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarian terrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north,the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake to the west, and the dry lowlands to the east. Aubern becomes granite as smoothly as night becomes day upon the higher flats of the Drakesreach Sierra; the harsh grasses and the thorny brush give way to firmer rocky soil, and the shade of ashen sweeps over the ground below,the stones that crunch underfoot offering a bleak yet welcoming change from the uphill trek. It is a temperate evening. A storm rages. ---- "This is hardly a good place to camp," Fox says, looking around, "But the ground is too treacherous to continue onward in this weather. There is too much of a chance of a broken angle or a hard fall on the slick rocks.""How do we ssset up camp?" Keiresa asks logically. "I'll be difficult to start a fire in this rain." Blood notes, before jerking a glance over at Taran. "Unless, you can do something about that." he notes, then scoping out the area. Taran just looks for a steep rock with a sheer face that will serve as a windbreak. "We need not set up anything intense," he says, as Jehan finds a much smaller rock to lean back against. "We will just see if we can wait out the storm here - Blackfox is correct, if we try to move on such rough terrain in this weather in the dark, we will only injure ourselves." He pauses. "Well- perhaps Keires'sa will not, but the rest of us well might." Then, to Blackfox, "As to the Archon, that is what Aeseyri was saying," he says. "That the Archmage had requested him to find the Archon, but that he could not and that it was his guess the Archon does not wish to be found." "Normally we would find some wood," Fox explains, "Build a lean-to for shelter and then build a fire, but with no wood and in this rain, neither are truly possible, but," she shrugs as she, too, settles near a good rock, needing much less to shelter her tiny frame from the weather, "Things could be worse." She looks over at Taran, "How long has he been missing? This storm will wipe all trace of his tracks if he had left any behind." Keiresa disengages from the group slightly, perhaps looking for a stray scrap of wood. Finding it? Exceptionally unlikely. But she does try. Bloodstone doesn't seem to mind the wind so much, reguardless that it blows his hood down, he still watches about the area at a low crouch. Crimson seems to be doing the same, albeit in a different manner. The wolf lowers his head to the ground, sniffing. "Think it has something to do with the dragon?" he asks, eyes scanning about. "I do not know," Taran admits. "I only ever saw him once, the night the Song Portal was opened. He went through, and I did not see him again. But the way Aes was speaking it sounded as if he did not want to be found, which makes the disappearance voluntary?" "Keiresa?" Fox calls over from where she crouches, "What are you looking for?" "Ssss?" Keiresa calls back her own version of an interrogative. The rain and potential lightning don't seem to worry her. She wrinkles her nose, "I don't know." She admits, "I thought you might be cold..." It sounds a little lame as she speaks it, and she shrugs and grins in recognition of that. "I belive we are going to have to wait this out. Use the rocks for shelter for now." Blood points out before heading back over to Taran and Fox. "I don't think Crimson smells anything threatening in the immediate area, so in terms of that, we are safe for the time being" he states, hunkering back down a crouch and pulling his hood back up. Taran laughs, tugging his waterproof leather cloak about himself. "I would be surprised if he could smell anything in this rain," he says. "I do not hear much, either, and the clouds and rain make it hard to see." He considers this. "I suppose we shall have to hope against ambush, that being the case." "My thanks for the thought," the young huntress calls back to the Syladris, wrapping her arms around her knees and presenting a very small target for the wind and rain, "But nothing will burn in this weather even if you find something." She uncurls, then, slipping around the rocks, "I will have a look around and make certain it is clear." "I can handle it, Madame Blackfox." Blood says, before returning to his feet. "I would think that Crimson would have the best eyes and nose for any of us here, save perhaps Madame Keiresa's eyes. Unless you want to scop out the area to the east and I look in the west." Taran lipquirks. "As I am little use, I think I will be a rock and listen," he says. "We may get some sign where to go when the rain clears." There was no response from Blackfox who had already vanished from sight, slipping silently into the rainy darkness to scout the perimeter, looking for signs of anything that might threaten them during the night. Bloodstone takes the hunter's silence for an agreement. He turns to Crimson and makes a qute low pitched whistle, barley audible above the sound of rainfall and thunderclaps. The wolf hears it easily and is at his in moment, before the two head off in the other direction. And the bard, true to his word, shifts stance and posture so that the tawny, travel-stained, rain-darkened leather cloak becomes...a dirt-browned rock, in the shadow of the larger rock he's leaning against. Leaving only Jehan, the very visible, very armored Ordinator, giving Taran an amused but somewhat exasperated glare. "So...great. I'm bait?" "You're the one in the clanky tin cans with the bright symbols," is the rock's dry reply. Keiresa has slipped back to the rocks and, with little ceremony curled up. Bright eyes keep watch but she seems inclined to let the hunters do their scouting as is their job. She's likely fairly close to Taran, perhaps only a few yards away. The duo of Bloodstone and Crimson head off the for the east, until they're both almost of sight due to the rain and darkness. A bit later, Blackfox slips out of the gloom, "It looks clear to me," she says quietly, "But considering visibility is only a few yards, truth be told a Wildling could be sitting twenty feet away and I might miss it." "I sense nothing but ourselves," says Taran carefully. "But like you, I am hampered by the storm. The lack of a fire may well work in our favor, though - there is no beacon to guide anyone to us." Keiresa waggles slightly, as if unhappy with being forced to stillness. Yet she smiles to Blackfox, "I think we are fine." Her optimism seems grounded in calm rather than cheerfulness. Warrented or not. Its some time, and nothing is heard where the Hunter and wolf went off to. But sooner or later out of shadows and rain, the two re-emerge back into visible sight, appearing in almost a wraith-like fashion. "There is something large to the east" he attests when he gets within hearing rang. "Perhaps south-east. I cannot make it out since I did not wish to venture too far. But Crimson nor myself seemed to notice anything lurking about." Taran hmmmms. "Something large?" he says. "Perhaps that is the way to go, then. But slowly, if we are not waiting for the storm to pass." Restlessness or not, Keiresa's eyes dip closed. Sleep comes quickly to the Syldari, though her tail occasionally twitches in dreaming. "I would rather wait until we can see what we are running into," Blackfox says, always practical. "Unless there is a rush...?" Taran shakes his head, a flash of white teeth in the rain as he grins. "Fool I am but perhaps not quite that eager," he says. "Well, someone needs to find out." Blood says, looking to pull himself in the Crimson's saddle. "I can go ahead and take a closer look if need be." he points out before smirking a dark smile. "Besides, if I don't return, that should be a sign that either you should not go that way, or we are on the right track." he says. The Hunter, pragmatic as always. "Going by yourself is foolhardy," Fox replies, "And again, there is no hurry, so why take an unnecessary risk?" Taran sighs. "What *sort* of big thing?" he asks. "A mountain? A giant? A tower?" Bloodstone shrugs. "It was simply a suggestion. Trying to keep you two out of harm's way is all." he notes. "I could not tell from where I was what it is, but it was large, though in this dim, it is difficult to say how large it was. Much higher than any tree or hill we've seen." "So it could be a natural rock formation," Blackfox says, "Or a sleeping dragon?" Taran considers this. "I think...we should go and see it," he decides. "If a rock formation, it will provide better shelter from the storm than we can contrive out here. And when the weather clears, we should be able to see a long way. If it is a dragon..." he shrugs. "I doubt that it is, but if it is, we shall be very polite." "If it is a dragon, I would imagine that it already knows we are in the area." Bloodstone notes, while nodding at Taran. "Thats a valid point as well. It could definatly make better shelter than what we have been subject to." Taran crafts Rune of Direction. Blackfox sighs and rises smoothly to her feet, unlimbering and stringing her bow, "Just in case it is not something so dangerous as a dragon," she says, moving to follow.You paged Taran with 'you know Wik is here, yes?' Taran nods to Jehan. "Let us try not to slide into any ravines along the way," he says. Bloodstone makes another of those low wistle noises, directing Crimson to follow along. He pats the wolf's soggy head with gloved hand absently, before venturing onward in the direction he had previously gone in. Blackfox follows quietly behind, bow in hand, watching back behind them as they go. Taran pauses to set his hand to a rock face; when he withdraws it there remains a faint rune that perhaps only his own eyes can see. He looks back south briefly, before turning to Jehan with a nod and following the others east. ---- Drakesreach Sierra The Drakesreach Sierra: A rugged range of rocky hills that feature anirregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of thesnow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation ofrolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarianterrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north,the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake tothe west, and the dry lowlands to the east. Aubern becomes granite as smoothly as night becomes day upon the higherflats of the Drakesreach Sierra; the harsh grasses and the thorny brush giveway to firmer rocky soil, and the shade of ashen sweeps over the ground below,the stones that crunch underfoot offering a bleak yet welcoming change fromthe uphill trek. It is a temperate late evening. A strong breeze blows over the land,occasionally gusting powerfully. It rains heavily, drenching the land inwater. Lightning flashes in the sky and thunder echoes off in the distance asa fierce storm rages. The following of the six moons are visible in the sky:Stormwatcher (green/waning), Torch II (gray/waning). Also here: Warning Sign, Pile of Stones Warning Sign OOC: Please contact Wik or another administrator before entering this cave so that the appropriate NPCs can be represented. Pile of Stones This is a four hundred foot tall pile of hand-sized black stones, all looking like they were recently cut with very awkward cutting or scraping tools. Obvious exits: Cave Entrance Cave Entrance A hole at the base of a massive mountain range, immediately next to it is an absolutely massive pile of stones, suggesting the stones came out of said cave. ---- Blackfox creeps up towards the cave entrance, skirting around to one side so as not to be silhouetted in the entrance as she crouches to listen and peer within. "So this is what I saw..." Blood notes to no one in particular as he approaches the massive formation of stones along with the cave enterance. Both he and Crimson do decent amount of sniffing as they slowly near the cave enterance, though the wolf would have more a better idea of what might be inside it.Taran stays behind the huntress, and Jehan a bit behind him. Both men try to stay quiet, letting the rain and dark mask as much as they can. He looks between the two Wildlander hunters, and softly whispers, "If you need to, and you can see me...think hard. If you intend for me to hear it, I will." To Bloodstone, he adds, "It is scree. This cave is not natural - it is excavated. Like a mine. Look at the chippings on the rocks. Wildlanders?" Blackfox slips just inside the cave, hugging the edge of the wall, moving in to let her eyes adjust to the darkness within. She says nothing for the moment, keeping quiet as she tries to avoid detection by anyone within.Upon closer inspection, the Hunter nods slowly, taking a moment to look over the pile of stone carefully. "Hard to say. Could be tools, or something else." he notes quietly, moving to head inside as well. Taran pauses near the entrance, and closes his eyes for a bit. To all appearances, the bard is gathering his will. What he does is sharpen his senses, opening them out to know as much as he can about where he steps...before slipping in after the two Wildlanders. A held up hand signals the armored Ordinator to wait for him here. Crimson knows better when not to follow his companion into certain places, not to mention the Timber Wolf is perhaps too big to even enter. Lowering himself onto his haunches, he waits. ---- Winding Tunnel An oddity of design, this textured, rounded passage looks as if it were carved out of the bare, black stone by heavy, desperate slashing claws. It winds like a snake for several miles from a mere hole at the base of the mountain up at a 15 degree angle, sometimes almost doubling back on itself before continuing on to a larger cavern. The temperature steadily decreases the deeper into the cave one goes, and icy cold water makes a small stream out of the bottom of the passage, sapping what little heat there might have otherwise been. ---- As the trio enter the darkness, Taran steps away from the other two, daring to pull out his precious Lute from under the leather cloak that hides its light. Blackfox keeps to the shadows ahead of the glowing lute, far enough ahead to not be outlined in its glow as she crouches low, presenting as small a target as she can and keeping to the wall. Bloodstone blinks as tunnel is lit up from the glow of the bard's lute. He runs a hand against the claw marks carved in the stone, pulling down his hood to get a better look to examine. He traces a finger along the gouges, attempting to mentally figure out how large whatever created them. Taran is also drawn to the claw marks. "...Wildlings?" he asks softly. He looks to the other two. "I have heard that your people trade with Wildlings sometimes? Is it safe? Do we retreat, continue?" "There is no way to know," Fox whispers back, "Not until you get a chance to watch them." "Bigger than a Wildling." Bloodstone replies in a low whisper. "These don't seem to be Wildling claw marks." he adds, then nodding forward, his response of wether or not they keep going. Taran takes a deep breath, then nods. "Commend your souls wheresoever they may be bound," he says softly, and shines his lute to light the way. "Should anything happen...one of us must get out. That one can take word to Tshepsi, and Jehan can take word back to the empire if need be." ---- Water Table Layer upon layer of thin slabs of limestone make up the majority of this small, man-made cavern, seemingly carved out by tiny, irregular shovels. Water gushes from the walls here, burbling from between the rock layers and down into a carved-out passageway below. Travel across the slick stone beyond the speed of a crawl is nearly impossible. A passageway to a broad hall can be vaguely seen through the waterfall effect on one of the walls. ---- Despite the long tunnel that winds ahead of them, Fox is in no hurry as she leads the way, keeping to the wall and the shadows, continuing to keep low. Now and again she pauses to crouch, looking for signs of tracks or marks on the floor, disturbances in any light dust or dirt, scratches or markings of mud. She keeps a steady pace but is careful not to get too far ahead of Taran and his light source, checking for any side passages as they go along. Bloodstone has kept a hand agasint the side of the tunnel for most of the time, having more than enough time to do more studying on the marks he has been observing. The Hunter is second in line, following after the Huntress. "I was wrong in my first guess about made this. Looks like small tools...how I guessed wrong earlier is behind me." he whispers quietly. Taran slows to a stop, slightly breathless, as he shines the Lute's strings around. "...Little claws," he murmurs, somewhere between wonder and worry. "I doubt the dragon came this way. Do we continue on? I find it odd that we have not yet met the makers of this hall." Blackfox nods, "There has been no spore that I have found," she says softly, "No droppings, no fur, no scales...nothing but the scratches." "Taran is right. There is no real scent here either. Only stone and water." Blood nods, stopping to turn and face the bard. "But after going so far, do we simply go back after traveling such a distance?" he ask the others, being careful with his footing. Taran crouches down - very carefully - by some of the scratches. "This whole place...was made," he muses. "Not by beasts. Beasts would not have tools, would not have the patience to do so very much digging. Abandoned home? Or do they live here still, these makers, and have pride enough to keep the place they have made clean?" He smiles ruefully. "If the latter, we shall have to apologize for intruding." He blinks. "Do you think...Syladris, possibly?" "Aye, but why claw marks on the floor?" Blackfox whispers. Bloodstone hmms, thinking about that. "Its possible I suppose, all the elements are here to make is plausible. If it is true, it would be something very important to share with the Syladris." he states quietly. He glances at Fox, then at the floor, quirking a brow. "Odd. Well the only way we will know is if we keep going forward. So do we go back or forward?" Taran shrugs. "By the scree outside, they may have excavated this entire cavern, the floor included," he murmurs. "But I would not hold to that as an absolute." He points to the stream. "That seems to be the guide....Shall we on, then?" Blackfox nods as she approaches the waterfall, reaching out to feel the water with her fingertips before pushing beyond it, moving as quickly as she feels safe over the slick rocks. Bloodstone looks at the waterfall apprehensively as Fox approaches it, then disappears through it. With a look over his shoulder at Taran, he pushes his way through carefully, holding an arm out for the one-armed bard, incase he needs the support. Taran can't take that arm, owing to having only one and needing that one to hold the Lute with. But a good dancer can dance even on a waxed floor, so...*carefully*...the lanky giant edges through the freezing water. ---- Ancient Temple Hideous reptiloid gargoyles with glowing blue stone eyes are perched atopmore than a dozen pillars of black marble that encircle a black marble altarrippled with veins of coruscating blue light. Narrow steps lead from thespiral sigil-marked gray stone floor to the sides of the altar. The altaritself rests beneath the looming sculpture of a downturned broad humanoidface, a man with a gaunt face framed by an angular beard, whose mouth is opento reveal a guttering green ethereal flame. That flame illuminates the altarand the surrounding pillars. A broad passageway leads deeper into the temple,while a smaller passageway leads towards the sound of water. A grotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle standsvigil here. A grotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle stands vigilhere. A grotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle stands vigil here. Agrotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle stands vigil here. Agrotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle stands vigil here. Agrotesquely carved figure of a Reptiloid Gargoyle stands vigil here. This gargoyle statue has been carved in painstaking detail, carved of reflective black stone. Its body looks similar to that of a muscular frog, with a long tail and snout full of teeth like a bushdragon. It is carved as if captured in the middle of a grotesque and bone-chilling scream, its ivory teeth gleaming behind its obsidian lips and gums. Each scale, each facial crease, each cuticle leading up to its long, thick ivory claws has been carved out in detail. Its rounded, living eyes glow with pulsating blue gems, reflecting haunting shadows onto the statue's already haunting visage. It contains: Glowing Blue Gem Glowing Blue Gem Obvious exits: Small Passage , Ancient Throne Room Well, there's the woman. Looking comatose and almost skeletal atop the altar, a faint, greenish smoke seems to waft from her towards the fire-belching sculpture above, disappearing as it seems to be sucked into the green flame. The room is silent save for the soft, hot crackling of fire, and a light humming noise, seemingly coming from all directions at once. "I...do not like this place," Blackfox says in a hushed voice, just barely above a whisper. Always said he wanted to explore, now he's knee deep in it. Bloodstone's face, is more than surprised, eyes blinking and mouth slightly gaping. "I think we are out of our element in this now." he whispers, not taking his eyes off that alter, or fire-breathing statue. Taran swallows as he sees what is inside. "Oh, Light," he murmurs sadly - with a gulp that says he's trying not to be ill, not swallowing fear. "Devouring her life." He looks at the carved gargoyles. "...Those...could be what took her." He steps...forward. Approaching the woman on the altar. "I am sorry," he says, though who to is anyone's guess. "I cannot stand by." The woman looks to be in her fifties, with hard, suntanned skin and bleached blonde-gray hair that speaks of a life out in the elements, and rough, utilitarian clothing that suggest a nomad of some sort. She is pale, almost sickly-looking, her eyes closed, as she very faintly breathes. "What kind of magic could bring stone to life?" Fox asks in a whisper, putting a hand on Taran's arm to slow him down. "And what is to stop them from tearing us to shreds?" "Taran! She is already dead!" Blood says in a strained and harsh whisper in an attempt to try and presuade the bard otherwise. "Damnit." he mutters, shooting a look back to Fox. "Be ready to get out of here if you can. Fast." Taran looks over at Bloodstone, then back at the woman on the altar. "She breathes," he says. "Three things Tshepsi said. Hunger. Renewal - a new life, a change. Eliare. The spirit, Eliare." He looks up at the mask that sucks in the smoke coming from the woman's body. "Why you?" he asks her. "I cannot save you." But as he draws a small silver dirk from within his sling, he apparently has another solution in mind. The woman doesn't seem to have a reply, the green smoke wafting steadily away and up. "And temptation by shadow," Blackfox adds softly, "What is it that you intend to do? I am not saying that we do not help her, only that we try to stay alive in the trying." Bloodstone squints his eyes towards the alter, straining for a better look. He blinks once and shakes his head. "I do not know if we can help her. But I am willing to do what I can" he notes, before falling silent. Whatever Taran has in mind, he waits to see, while slowly and quietly pulling his bow away from his shoulder. "Then grab her," says Taran quietly. "Now. And go as quickly as you dare for the door. *I* cannot save her. I cannot carry her, and the light, and move. But you two can. We take her and we run...as much as we dare to run. If you cannot take this risk then she must be killed - a kinder death than what she suffers now, I am sure. But be quick." Blackfox begins to move forward, cautiously watching the gargoyles as she moves towards the altar. "Are you certain she is a victim in this?" she asks quietly? Bow now in hand, Bloodstone quietly knocks an arrow in the string. "I do not think we are certain of anything at this point, save if we do nothing, something worse may occur." he whispers, now keeping an eye on the gargoyles for any kind of movement. "No, I am not," says Taran calmly. "But that," and the Lute is pointed at the smoke-belching face and colored flames, "seems to me an art most foul, to be disturbed if at all possible. Rescue her, and one can still kill her later if she merits it. Or kill her now, if you would spare us the work of saving her. But choose quickly - this is your choice, not mine, for I can only kill her." Blackfox picks up the pace a bit, halfway between a walk and a trot, uneasy at the two dozen eyes staring down at her from above. "Let us hope you are right in this," she says under her breath. Bloodstone brings his bow up to bear, pointing it just off a little behind Blackfox, moving it as she does, ready to take a shot at anything unnatural that might be moving towards her. His is entirely focused now at the task at hand. Taran juggles a bit to re-sheathe the dirk, getting a firm grip on his lute. "Hope is a marvelous thing," he says. "You first, I will follow with the light, and Bloodstone can ...hopefully cover our retreat. If the arrows do nothing, then run as you may.""It may be easier to go forward than it would be to go back if they begin to move," Blackfox says, moving at a good pace still, one eye upwards at the sentinels who watch over them. "But there may also be no way out if we go forward. At least we know there is an exit back the way we came from." Bloodstone notes absently, he aim still following Blackfox's movements. Taran sighs, and does what he's able to do - runs ahead. "If I do not come back, or you hear large beast sounding noises," he growls, "Grab the woman and run back the way we came!" runs past them and into the Ancient Throne Room beyond "Damn it," Fox shakes her head, putting a tentative foot on the first step leading up to the altar. "I'll have your hide for this Taran...if we all make it out of this place." Blood utters, not deviating the arrows aim for moment, though he does take a few steps forward to not make range such a difficult factor. "We cannot leave him alone," Fox finally says, turning from her path to run towards where Taran had disappeared. Bloodstone blinks once again watching Fox diviate from her course. "I can't belive this..." he trails off, starting to make his way after the huntress, his still held at a ready position. ---- Ancient Throne A natural cavern that was converted recently for use as a dank, dismalthrone room. Water trickles from the textured sides of the cavern to collectin mossy black pools that glimmer beneath the cerulean glow of mysteriousstones inset in recessed cavities on either side of an obsidian throne. Thethrone sits atop a dais of human skulls that have been mortared together,morbid bare grins facing outward, small glowing stones perched within theireye sockets. Upon the throne sits a statue of a humanoid man, his handsembossed with glowing blue sigils. The figure's long, gaunt face is framed byan angular beard. A Humanoid Statue is here. A five to six foot tall statue, carved to look like a human. It has been engraved with: A white marble statue of a sitting man, embossed with glowing blue sigils on his hands. His face is gaunt, and is framed by an angular beard. The hair has been cut such that it seems like a circlet or a crown would fit atop his head. Obvious exits: Archway Two coinlike mirrors, about the size of a human head, each seem to reflect a tarnished, sepia, well...head distantly in their reflections, as if seen from a distance. They float near the statue, bobbing up and down, almost as if talking. Taran runs in, sees no exits, prepares to run back out...stops when he sees the statue. Pales to a rather unphotogenic orange shade when he sees the space for the circlet. "Eliare," he breathes. Then, seeing the mirror things, gets a good grip on his Lute. Time to go smashy, maybe. The bard doesn't go unnoticed, and the seemingly conferring mirrored disks wheel around, their forms suddenly sheathed in blood red tendrils that seem to snake up through the floor, encapsulating them like mother's arms. The faces within are gaunt and impossibly old, the eyes glowing a bright blue through the sepia tone within the reflection. An otherworldly moaning begins, and the two disks begin to slowly slide towards the Bard's position. Throughout the throne room, new bloody tendrils drip up from the floor, coughing out their own mirrored disks. Seems like it will soon be a party. Taran, en route to said disks with Lute raised, changes direction so fast observers would have noted the transdimensional invention of the medieval moonwalk without any Michael Jackson albums to go with it. The bard doesn't waste time or breath on yelps. Those long legs exist for a reason, and right now that reason is to get the hell outta Dodge. Blackfox runs into the room, coming to an immediate halt upon seeing the surreal scene unfolding before her. She doesn't need to be told, especially as Taran turns to run back towards them, immediately pulling her own 180 and leading the way back outside. Almost as soon as he enters the throne room, Bloodstone regrets ever entering. He doesn't say anything, or perhaps doesn't have time, as the other two are hastily making an exit. He doesn't need to be told twice, or once for that matter, and the Hunter is moving away just as fast as he entered. The horde of blood-red tendrils and mirrored old faces continues to advance, the otherworldly moaning growing in intensity. three run back into the Ancient Temple. Blackfox bolts at full speed now, heading up the stairs two at a time towards the altar. Bloodstone is right with Fox, that bow still held ready, and moving as fast as his legs will carry him. Taran keeps his grip on the lute, ready to light the way. His voice is a steady babbling as he runs for the passage. "It's ice past the waterfall - grab her, be ready to slide. What I wouldn't give right now to be an *evoker* oh I am going to wring that Duke's *NECK*!" Behind the trio, the bloody old men and women continue to advance, and above, the sound of cracking stone can be heard. "Watch my back," Fox says over her shoulder to Blood as she goes for the woman, coming to a halt at the altar and trying to scoop the woman up, her gaze drawn to the green flames within the carvings mouth. "We have little time!" Blood shouts, and almost freezes, hearing the grinding sound of moving stone. "Make that no time! Move!" he growls, pulling his string half-taught, more than ready to let an arrow fly at the first thing that moves. Long, stony wings stretch, splintering the rock to create moveable joints in the otherwise unyielding stone. Muscular legs move to stand atop their respective pillars, parallel cracks moving up the limbs like exposed sinew. Twelve pairs of glowing blue eyes turn down towards the party, and ivory teeth begin to gnash loudly. One of the gargoyles screams, a glottal and unholy blend of snake hiss, chitter shriek, and a dying woman's last pained gurgle. The others echo this scream with screams of their own, each reptilian maw contorting grotesquely, their obsidian faces beginning to resemble a mosaic. Taran is just going to run. The 'to' has already been defined, the 'from' has already been defined - though it's being steadily enhanced by the minute - and now there's just the running, until he runs out of safe ground to run on. Then it will likely be sliding. Hugging the woman close to her body, Blackfox bends low, trying to keep her balance as she charges down the steps. Stumbling, she manages to keep her footing and her hold on her charge, though she is slowed by her burden. Instinctively, she hunches over the woman as she goes, partly to protect her and partly an innate desire to duck low in anticipation of attacks from above. Bloodstone is just running now, theres no point at firing arrows at statues. One by one, the shrieking gargoyles rise from their perches, flapping about the cavern before lowering towards the group, with the row upon row of bloody tentacle-zombies marching steadily on as well. Taran is not having the best of luck with the running away; stride breaks and he stumbles. "Out, get out!" he cries at the other two, for all the good it will do. If he can get to his feet, or at least cover the other two's retreat...Bloodstone must've hit a slippery spot, because like Taran, the Hunter crashes to his feet. "Just go damnit!" he shouts at Fox, after which he's scrambling back to his feet. Blackfox does not slow her headlong flight, carrying her precious cargo towards the waterfall without looking back and without looking up. However, it is not a completely straight run as she occasionally zigs or zags to throw off any potential strikes from above. Two of the reflective gargoyles dive towards Taran's fallen form, screaming unmercifully, while another streak after Blackfox, attempting to pounce on her and her payload as she zigs and zags. Somehow, they seem entirely uninterested in Bloodstone, the other eight seemingly waiting. The tendrils continue to advance, ready to set upon the interlopers. Taran manages to roll away from the first gargoyle's attack, hissing at the pain in his arm, but rolls almost right *into* the attack of the second. The claws score a long gash down his previously uninjured arm and the bard cries out much more loudly now. "NOW I remember the runes!" he snarls, probably to himself, even as he tries to get to his feet, and get away. "When am I going to start thinking like a *mage*? Get *away* - both of you!" Well, at least that last bit wasn't him yelling at himself. Back on his feet, Blood is moving as fast as he can mangage. He is not fast enough to alert either of them of the incoming attack. He adjusts his course, speeding toward Fox. The ducking and dodging avail her naught as the two gargoyles dive down at her back. The first clips the side of her head with a claw, tearing hair and skin from just above her ear, causing her to stumble and slow. As it rises back up the second slams into her back in a spray of blood as it shreds armor and flesh, driving her to her knees as she cries out in pain. Still, she clings to the woman as she tries to stumble back to her feet, single mindedly attempting to make it to the safety of the waterfall ahead of her. The hall fills with fevered screeching as the gargoyles head upward to prepare for another attack. The mirrored tendrils suddenly stop, however, and begin to glow with a sickly green light. Taran is first through the waterfall, gripping his lute with pretty much a death grip at this point. Predictably enough, the rate of speed he enters at sends him into a quick skid on the slick stones - but because it *was* predictable it's not entirely uncontrolled. Rather, the bard literally skids through a good portion of the area, down into the twisting caves beyond. The theory seems to be that his hips and back can hate him tomorrow if he happens to live that long. Bloodstone pulls Fox through the waterfall, burden or not, and if she's injured, to help keep her on her feet. "No looking back now." he grunts, the ability to try. He notes the sliding bard. "Looks like he has the right idea." Blackfox falls to her knees on the slick stones, dragged off balance by Bloodstone, her footing precarious to start with. Her legs don't stop moving those, nor does she yield her death grip on the subject of their quest. She slides on her knees, unintentionally following in Taran's 'footsteps' so to speak, gasping for breath, her back numbed by the icy waterfall for the moment. The sound of screeching can be heard as a single gargoyle punches through the waterfall just above Blackfox's head, just missing her as she drops down. It wheels about, struggling to keep flight in the much smaller space, peering down with its pulsating icy blue eyes. The last man standing, Blood decides to take the 'slip n' slide' approach like the others. Taking three steps at a run, then dropping onto his rear, he slides down the tunnel. Ignoring the pain from the falling and the icy water, he slides after the other two. Taran is more focused on steering his descent than dealing with death from above - gravity's a more certain danger, as gargoyles might *miss*. "Come...on out, need to keep running..." but he lets the Lute hang about his neck and shoulder by its strap for a moment, to fumble with his less injured arm for an oddly bulging belt pouch. "Don't know that we *can* run...all that way." Blackfox has no control over where and how she slides, trying to focus on the glowing lute in front of her with no real way of 'steering' as is curled over top of their rescuee. "I will run...as far as need be..." The gargoyle does a grating, stony cry as the three slide into the tunnel proper, and alights on all fours, folding its wings down and charging afterward. "You'll be happy to know its not stopping!" Bloodstone calls down the tunnel. Its only now that he realizes that he still has his bow in hand. Jostling around as he is, he takes a new arrow from his quiver and knocks it, all this taking more than a few tries to actually accomplish. He draws back string, turns half away around as he continues to speed down, and aims as best as he can at one of the two glowing blue dots coming after them. He lets the arrow fly. With the air of someone trying something absolutely desperate because hell if the odds could get *that* much worse, Taran finally closes bloody fingers around the object he's been swearing about. A waterstone gem is pulled from his belt pouch, and - as hard as he can under the circumstances - he hurls the rock ahead of him down the tunnel. Which, given that the tunnel twists and curves, means it goes very fast for a ways and then hits the rock. All Blackfox can do is keep her head down, her body shaking as she leaves a trail of blood on the stone behind her. Though awkwardly fired, the arrow ricochets against the cavern wall, and back towards the gargoyle, knocking the glowing gem out of its socket. The gargoyle pauses, as if stunned. "I don't believe it..." Blood notes in an astounded tone, seeing one of the blue lights go out. During this time he attempts to knock another while still sliding. Taran wasn't looking, didn't see, and is mostly focused on getting out or at least getting clear. Which is a shame, really. Gaining their feet, the three continue to run down the long tunnel, eventually emerging beneath the rain drenched skies of the Wildlands... Category:Logs